


love isn’t strong enough a word.

by orphan_account



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: Angst, Gallaghercest, M/M, Sibling Incest, handjobs lmao, liam being cute but cocky, noel being gay and sad, something i’m really proud of that i’ve put a ton of work into and hope you guys like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 05:05:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17217548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: he is sun-light and the last page of a book and letting yourself be vulnerable to those who you love. he is indescribable.





	love isn’t strong enough a word.

**Author's Note:**

> i was gonna call this angel child, and then chinatown as they’re the songs that inspired it. (especially the latter for the later sections as it provokes so much emotion in me !!) but i settled on something i’ve felt during relationships. is there a stage after love? it feels like there should be, as some people are just completely indescribable. anyway, enough from me, enjoy !!

love isn’t strong enough a word.

he is sun-rays and confidence and getting wine drunk on saturdays when it’s just me and him. he’s too good for anyone, but he doesn’t know that.

“-but it’s like that, isn’t it. stars, like- what about stars, noel? they’re nuclear but we don’t bring them here because if we did we’d all end up-“

i’m tuning in and out of what he’s saying at this point, probably something as stupid and unbearably beautiful as he is.

“d’yer think we could make a new star? like, a man made star but not a big one like the sun, just a little star? i think that if i made a star i’d-“

“i don’t think that’s possible.”

“of course you don’t think it’s possible.”

“what’s that meant to-“

“but i think, if i made a star it’d affect the world in some sort of social way, d’you know what i mean? i think it’d mean that we’d be like no one that’s ever come before-“

and i’m tuned back out again.

i’d gone outside with the intention of being alone for a little while. my flat was one of the few places i could be unbothered, well, until liam would come over and try and find out a new way to bother me. whether that’s telling me about how he spent his weekend outside with his stupid fucking mates and that’s the story behind why he needs me to buy him a new football or if it’s whining about how he needs my lips on his neck - a luxury that i’ve been limiting as of late - he’ll find a way to get my attention.

“-i already do think that we’re like no one that’s ever come before. i don’t know if it’s possible to change what everyone else already made up but i’m ready to try it if everyone else is. but d’you think that’s how everyone feels? d’you think we’re gonna live like everyone else at the end of the day?”

he’s smart. people like to treat him like he’s an idiot, but in reality, he’s smarter than they’ll ever be. his intelligence may only come out in the form of drunken rants, but i’ll take that. i like him like this, anyway. happy, unaware of anyone who may be judging. seems like we’re in our own universe even though we’re really just in mum’s back garden when mum and paul are away for the weekend. 

he looks up and i swear his eyes have never looked this bright before.

“do you think we can change things?”

my brain says no, not in a million years will anything change for anyone, especially not for us.

“yes.”

-

he is smiles and sugar-highs and going to church on sundays even though god left both of us years ago. he means too much to me and i mean too much to him.

my life is soaked in love and flooded with liam, liam, liam. sixteen, cocky and cocaine-skinny already, he takes his rightful place as the light of my life. fire of my loins i’d like to finish that with - i’m dead when he leaves me - god, i’m fucking pathetic.

i’m playing you’ve got to hide your love away and he’s staring up at me from the floor of my flat with eyes that look too much like mine before they lost that curiosity, before i thought things that convinced me it was better to think inside the box, that i shouldn’t get carried away with fantasies.

i finish my rendition and he’s still there, gaze never moving from my own.

“that was fucking good.”

“i know it was.”

pretending that his praise doesn’t have an effect on me is usually how i respond to comments like that. i’m not like him; i don’t go around baring my soul to anyone who asks. i envy that he can do that.

he’s playing with my shoelaces like a kid, or a cat, maybe. something too pure and fragile to be around me anyway. i wonder if he knows how fucking tragically cute he is - he probably does. perfectly balanced between innocence and knowledge. that’s what’s special about him. my sin, my soul.

it’s when his hand travels past my shin and over my knee that i know he’s looking for what he always craves but rarely asks for. a kiss is one thing but this is another, sometimes i wonder if he’s scared to ruin his soul like i’ve ruined mine. maybe he’s just scared that i won’t let him.

“noel?”

“yeah?”

“is this- i mean is this, like, okay? with you, i mean?”

i see something from him that i rarely see: hesitation. or care, if you want to see it in a more positive way. and when i see his eyes, honest and true, of course it’s okay, it’s always okay. 

“yeah - yeah, it’s okay.”

he’s unzipping my jeans and pulling them down along with my boxers to halfway down my thighs. his tongue runs over his bottom lip as he slides his hand down to the base of my cock, gazing into my eyes. it takes a lot of self control not to make an embarrassing noise at just that. any other person i could fuck around with could never affect me that deeply with a look, but he’s not anyone, he’s liam, my brother, my own blood and a boy put on this earth only to ruin me.

he no longer hesitates, his hand moving at a steady pace - a pace he set without any input from me, letting him have complete control. i’m usually more about having control in intimate situations but there’s something about liam that still seems so fragile, like glass that could shatter without a touch. he’s a boy that could cry without anything going wrong, just by overthinking something unimportant. he’s always been so sensitive even with full power of the situation, and i instantly feel a pang of hurt somewhere in my chest when imagining how easily he could be broken by someone careless.

when i look up at him though, the hurt in my chest is drowned by my love for his cocky smile, a result of his realisation of how close i am after such little time. he slows to a halt, a challenge. 

“what’s this all about, then?”

“what’s what all about?” he replies with that same smile on his face. silence for a few seconds, and then:

“do you want to be good for me, liam?”

when a blush settles in his cheeks and a barely there shaky sigh is heard, i know i’ve got him right where i want him.

“do you want to be a good boy for me?”

he looks up at me and nods, trying to stop the beaming smile from spreading across his face showing me that this was exactly what he wanted.

“then you’d better get back to doing what you’re meant to be doing.”

without further comment, he speeds back up to the pace he started with, and i’m suddenly close far too quickly. 

“such a good boy for me liam, i’m close, baby”

it’s not a pet name i’d usually choose, but it fits so well that it doesn’t feel unnatural. he obviously doesn’t think it feels unnatural either, a smile settling on his lips as he brings me over the edge. 

i release over his hand and onto my stomach. he brings his fingers to his lips and sucks, releasing them with an obscene ‘pop!’ - i know he’ll want me to return the favour quickly though, so i don’t waste any more time pondering the sick pleasure i get out of part of me belonging inside of him - as a part of him.

i’m tugging down his sweatpants as soon as i get the chance to; he’s sitting on the settee with me now and as much as i love seeing him look up at me - seeing him gaze at me through lidded eyes obscured by lashes (too fucking long for a boy to be allowed to have, in my opinion) is the closest thing to heaven i could ever imagine. i move my gaze down to where brothers aren’t meant to look and, as gorgeous as his cock is, i feel a little too queer for my liking spending more than a few seconds staring at it, so i get to work.

there isn’t a word in the dictionary to sum up how liam’s occasional sobs of “noel” and “please” into my neck between thrusts of his hips make me feel; pride could maybe come close, and so could possession, but not completely. possession is usually used in response to someone’s ownership being threatened, but that isn’t why i feel that way. pride would also be a good description but is a bit vague for my liking. maybe ‘proud possession’ would work, because the vulnerability in his voice gives me the primal desire to completely protect what’s mine, and the fact that my name is mixed in with a symphony of needy sounds lets me know that he feels protected, that he’s mine and always will be.

(and liam, we’ll hold a piece of each-other hostage until we’re much older - never being able to live one without the other. there’s no way you can know this yet though, my darling.)

“noel”

“yeah?”

“m’close”

he’s moving his hips more quickly now, his cock sliding through my hand with little of my own movement. suddenly, he stills, and releases over my fist - onto my new shirt too, but we won’t mention that right now. his head is buried in my neck and he’s gripping onto my shoulders for dear life - feels like he’s nearly as addicted to me as i am to him.

“we - liam, we gotta clean up.”

he opens his eyes. 

“m’tired, noel.”

he’s laying on top of me and there’s really not much i can do until he moves out of the way.

“can you let me up?”

in response to this, he only presses a kiss to my neck and closes his eyes again. well, i’ve tried. we can deal with this later, i think, and close my eyes too.

-

he is kisses and cigarettes and nicking vodka from the shop down the street while the shopkeeper’s in the back. he’s all that i want and all that i could ever need.

when we’d got into bed i spent a few seconds looking at his sleeping face, angelic and peaceful, so different from his usual scowl he puts on to look tough. i finally settled down and fell into a dreamless sleep.

i wake up and the sun drips into my room. the kettle’s on and is making a racket, which is probably what woke me up. liam isn’t next to me anymore, and when i walk into the kitchen i’m greeted with what i wish was mine. he’s sitting on the counter, smoking my weed and eating my toast, whilst wearing my jumper and his boxers. as much as i’d like to tell him that he shouldn’t take what isn’t his, he looks like too much of a dream to disturb him.

he notices me soon enough though, like he can sense i’m looking at him or something. i’m met with a smile before he turns around and pours us both a cup of coffee each. i’d like to say that i’d prefer tea but now doesn’t really feel like the right time.

“thanks.”

“s’alright.”

we drink our coffee in almost complete silence except for the sounds of the city outside. it’s not an uncomfortable silence though, we’re just too busy thinking about our own things. as i’m thinking about johnny marr, liam decides i should think about what he’s thinking about too.

“wish we could do this more often.”

“me too, kid”

“we could, and when we’re older we will.”

trying not to be swept away by fantasies of us growing old together, i ask “and how’s my bird gonna like you staying with us?”

he looks at me like i’m stupid. “simple. you’re not gonna have one.”

“excuse me?”

“you’re not gonna have a bird because i’m gonna be there, and if i’m there you’re not gonna need a bird anyway.”

as much as i want to say ‘that’s really not how it works’ it’s too nice a thought to dash with harsh words. for a second i indulge in the thought of us living together, properly, away from mum and paul and everyone else in the outside world. liam could cook us breakfasts and - okay, that’s enough of that for now.

“alright, sure.” i say, not wanting to upset him. it’s difficult to tell when he’s joking or not, and if he isn’t i don’t want to ruin the moment.

he slips down off the counter to get dressed, giving me a kiss on the cheek on the way. i feel a familiar warmth in my chest at that, and swallow down the rest of my coffee.

-

he is bitten lips and vaseline and fighting someone just to feel something. i don’t want to drag him down to hell with me.

pubs and bars usually feel like home, but now i feel more like i’m in enemy territory and that everyone around me is a threat. every glance thrown at liam sets off selfish words in my mind. ‘mine.’ there are lads who’s eyes land on liam more than their own girlfriends, he’s just too fucking beautiful to ignore.

sometimes i wish i could just buy him a wedding ring, doubt anyone would bother him then. i’d make it expensive too, so no twat with a desk job could even consider stealing him from me. for now though, i’ll just have to settle with an arm around his waist and the hope people don’t think our faces look too similar.

it’s when a lad sitting alone decides that it’s now the perfect time to come over and probably try to seduce my baby brother that i first truly feel it. absolutely pure, undiluted possession. liam’s acting like he doesn’t see him approaching, and i swiftly remove my arm from his waist and grab his wrist.

“we goin’ somewhere?” he says, smiling like he doesn’t see anything wrong. i know he does. fucking gets off on the fact that i don’t usually care about people this much - don’t need them completely to myself. he knows how quick i usually let go in relationships yet wants me to follow him to the end of the world, and i’d be lying if i said i wouldn’t.

“yeah.” is all i say before i lead him out the door.

we walk back to my flat with no more than a dozen words said.

i unlock the door and he’s barely got in by the time i’m slamming it shut and staring into his eyes. he gazed at me like he’s in a haze, looks far too fucking pleased with himself for my liking. i want to fucking wipe that smirk off his face but i hold myself back.

“what was that all about?”

“what was what all about?”

he’s still smiling and i sigh, realising that the only way to make it enter his fucking head is to satisfy what he wants in the first place. 

my mouth is on his neck within seconds and after thirty seconds of what must be -assuming by the sounds he’s making - pure bliss for him, i pull back.

i don’t think anyone could even describe such beauty, and any eyes who’ve seen it would lose their sight. his lips are red and parted, and the mark i left on his collarbone is just visible from under his shirt. he’s one of the boys people write songs about for sure.

“wouldn’t expect you to get jealous so easy.” he smiles.

“don’t underestimate me, angel.”

-

he is the warmth of alcohol and the relief after tears and the feeling of soft hair under my fingertips. we both know i write all my best songs about him.

his hair is long enough to be a girl’s now, but the voice he’s speaking with is still the one i’ve always known.

“i don’t know if you know how much i love you, noely.” he drags out the ‘ee’ sound like a kid, and it fills my heart with a weird sort of sadness.

“i’m sure i do, kid.”

“no - no, no you don’t!” he says, laughing into my chest where he lays his head. god, he’s out of it.

he moves to take another swig from the whiskey bottle. 

“i can’t wait until we’re famous and live in a - in a really big house together, noel. that’ll be nice. noel, hey, listen to what i’m - “

“i’m listening, kid.”

“just - we can be together then, i wanna be like this all the time.”

that’s the last thing he says before he shuts his eyes. it’s difficult to tell if he’s asleep or not, but by his slowed breathing and lack of rambling, i’d assume so.

i feel this weird sort of thing that i don’t get very often. like the end of a book, or what you feel towards the end of december, before the new year. like the end credits are already on screen and things are just - serene. that feeling that you’re going to cry, but you’re also somewhat happy and at peace. and i know it’s due to him, and how much i care about him. as i shut my eyes and dream of our future, i can’t help but think:

love isn’t strong enough a word.

**Author's Note:**

> i really hope everyone liked this !! i worked super hard on it and i know it’s not super long and the plot isn’t super developed but it’s the first story i’ve written that i’m incredibly proud of. thank you for reading, i hope you have a good day/night/new year !!


End file.
